


A Penny for Your Thoughts

by derwent



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: F/M, Manipulative Relationship, Pre-Canon, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-04-12 08:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21616447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derwent/pseuds/derwent
Summary: Penny Fleck, a new maid in the Wayne Manor, catches the eye of one Thomas Wayne.Alas, this is not a romance.
Relationships: Penny Fleck/Thomas Wayne
Kudos: 16





	A Penny for Your Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very fond of the whole "Arthur is Thomas Wayne's illegitimate son" theory. This fic is also inspired by Brett Cullen's (the actor who plays Thomas Wayne) interview with The Hollywood Reporter, especially his belief that Thomas put Penny in the mental institutions as a cover-up. 
> 
> Also, my 1950s knowledge is entirely learnt from random episodes of _Mad Men_.

You’re as excited for this job as you were for your very first job.

The other girls gush on how lucky you are. The pay is better, not by much but still better than what you’re earning in the store. You can treat yourself to more clothes, more makeups, and even more nights out. Better than that, though, is the prestige – working for one of the city’s richest families, even as a maid, invites the envious glances of your co-workers.

*

On the first day you get briefed with the other staff. The manor is so spacious, it needs a whole team of maids for caretaking. That’s not even counting the cook, the gardeners, the chauffeurs(!), and the formidable butler, Alfred. He gives instruction in a stern voice that accepts no argument. He doesn’t have to: you’re so grateful to be here that you’d risk nothing that could jeopardize this chance. 

You spend the first few weeks being amazed at . . . everything. The sheer size of the Manor, the various works of art adorning every corner of the house, the sheer luxury of it. You’ve only ever seen houses like this in the movies. You didn’t think you’d actually step inside and see it with your own eyes.

You strive to do your best work. You may just be a maid, but dammit if you’re not gonna be a good one at that. If you work hard, you might just be good enough to get promoted. Just because you start at the bottom doesn’t mean you have to spend your whole life there.

*

You’ve seen his photos on newspapers and tabloids, of course, but seeing him in flesh is a whole other thing entirely. Which is why you don’t realize, at first, who is it you’re talking to. The staff is supposed to be invisible, and the family spends a lot of time traveling, but still it is inevitable that occasionally the family will be reminded that their beds don’t magically clean themselves. 

You’re cleaning the library when the young man steps in and asks you where his book is. The book that was on his bedside, but he can’t find it now. Did you perhaps return it to the library, or one of the other maids, maybe? You say no, you didn’t move any personal stuff from the bedrooms. You’re not supposed to. 

Alfred walks in and the man repeats his question. 

“It’s on your desk, Sir, at the bottom of the stack.”

“Thanks, Alfred. Aren’t you going to introduce us?” His tone is playful, but you glance at Alfred and even though his expression doesn’t change, you sense that he’s not particularly pleased. It is then that you realize the young man is Thomas Wayne himself, your employer.

“This is Penny, one of our new maids, Sir.”

“Alfred, you didn’t tell me we hire cover girls!” he winks, and you blush. 

“Well, afraid I have to go, but I’ll see you around.” And with that the young Mr. Wayne dashes out the door. You can feel Alfred’s gaze on your back, so you quietly return to dusting the shelf.

*

The next time you see Thomas Wayne you’re sitting on a secluded bench in one of the Manor’s gardens. The staff isn’t supposed to hang around outside the staff’s area, but it’s very rare that anyone goes here, so you don’t think it’d be a problem.

You hear a “Hi there” and next thing you know he’s sitting beside you on the bench. You’re awkward at first, not sure how to act in front of this young man, not much older than you, but who exists on an entirely different plane of existence he might as well be an alien. He’s very charming, though, and slowly you open up. 

*

This goes on for several months, and over time you find yourself more and more at ease around him. Whenever he’s home, he makes sure to look for you in that bench. You enjoy listening to him. You don’t have much to say yourself, but occasionally there’ll be something worth sharing. Once you let slip that you’re taking a correspondence course in typing, because you want to be a secretary. He smiles and tells you to let him know when you’re finished – there might be a position for you down in the office. 

You walk home with a spring in your step that night.

*

The first time he kisses you, you are cleaning one of the guest rooms. He’s been gone for a few weeks, which is par for the course, so you’re not expecting him to be there. You just finish changing the sheet when he shows up, out of the blue, says he misses you and kisses you right there and then.

You flutter. You don’t know how to respond. Sure, you’ve had dates and boyfriends before, no one serious, but he’s so far different from all the men you know. You look up at him and he’s smiling a little mischievous smile.

You set aside your apprehension, and smile back.

*

Alfred corners you one day in the pantry when you’re stocking the shelves. 

It’s a warning, no matter how carefully phrased. 

He talks about you, too. He’s a master in subtlety, but the point stands: you’re young and naïve and foolish and don’t know what’s good for you. 

It’s condescending, no matter how much he laces his words with fake concern and care. You’re offended, and you let it show. Not too directly, because he’s still your supervisor, but you give some pointed remark of your own.

Later on, at the cramped apartment you call home, you look at the romance novels you buy cheap at the drugstores. A girl can dream, though, can’t she?

*

You’re waiting for him on your bench in the garden. You hear a click and turn around, and there he is with a brand-new camera in his hands. You smile, delighted, and he takes another shot. 

A few days later he presents the result to you. You look so pretty in the photo, sitting there with a smile that could rival the bright sunlight of that day. You turn the photo over and see the note he scribbled there. Your heart fills your throat. You slip the photo inside your purse, as careful as if you were handling the antiques in his mansion. 

*

The papers on the table are filled with legal terms you don’t understand. Try as you might, you only get the barest understanding of the content. You look up with question in your eyes at Thomas. 

He grimaces and explains, with embarrassment, that it’s what his lawyers want. It’s supposed to be a safeguard of some kind. For the family’s image and good name, you see, because it’s very easy for their enemies to use the slightest hint of impropriety to attack the Waynes. It wouldn’t seem proper, if the story goes out that he’s dating his maid, you know, because of his family’s standing, which is a load of bull, of course, it’s just that the lawyers . . .

You grab the pen and sign the papers. Who do they think you are? You’re no gold-digger, latching yourself to a wealthy but lonely man, winning his love and confidence only to turn around and sell your story to the highest bidder. You may be poor, but you have dignity and self-respect. Not that you expect those lawyers to know anything about them.

You hand him the papers. He smiles, though there’s something slightly off. It’s not like the smile you have come to be very familiar with. He must be annoyed with the lawyers too. You wish he’d tell them how quick you were to sign the papers. That’ll show them.

*

Your life, being what it is, means that sometimes you have to choose between having a roof over your head or a full stomach. It’s really not a question. 

Which is why, at first, you don’t connect the dots. Skipping meals means that you can pay rent, but it also means that Aunt Flo occasionally doesn’t get to visit. 

Plus you get stressed over the fact that you’ve been throwing up in the past few days. You really can’t afford to be sick. 

It’s only when you still don’t get better on the second month that you finally go to see a doctor. He tells you to come back in a few months after the pregnancy start showing for further exam. 

You don’t know how you manage to walk out of the clinic. Suddenly you’re outside on the pavement. You stand there, frozen, until someone yells at you to move. You turn around and begin the slow walk home.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact from the unexpected research I had to do regarding 1950s pregnancy test: apparently back then they used to perform pregnancy test by injecting frogs with a woman's urine. If the frogs start laying eggs, it means the woman's pregnant. But this was rarely done, and most doctors just told women to come back in a few months when the pregnancy began to show.
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome!


End file.
